But when he’d looked over the tasks involved, he knew Mark wasn’t ready.
Coward. You were the one who wasn’t ready.
An attractive redhead pushed her way through the huddle of onlookers. “What happened? Is anyone hurt? Dakota, get some towels, please. And the first aid kit. Should I call 911?”
“My brother slipped and crashed into Deirdre’s table.”
Isaac extended his hand to Dierdre, keeping his eyes on her face and avoiding the bounty in his peripheral vision. “Are you all right? I apologize about this.”
Her breasts were small, firm, and perfectly proportioned, her skin satiny smooth, creamy, with the lightest dusting of freckles.
“I’m fine.” She took his hand and let him help her up. “You guys sure know how to make an entrance.”
Another woman appeared, blond and pale. “DeeDee, what happened?”
Isaac wanted to fall through the floor. He opened his mouth to explain, but Deirdre preempted him with a light touch to Mark’s shoulder and a calm smile for the people surrounding them. “It seems this handsome dude and I are falling for each other. Literally.” She ruffled Mark’s hair, earning a wobbly smile. “Everything’s okay. Back to your regularly programmed lives, people. Nothing to see here.”
The onlookers chuckled and dispersed. Sniffling, Mark lifted a hand to the spot Deirdre had stroked. Isaac’s eyebrows rose. Mark was a cuddly guy, but he didn’t allow many people to touch his head.
“DeeDee.” The blonde pointed to Deirdre’s front and whispered, “Wardrobe malfunction alert.”
Deirdre glanced down. “Will you look at that?”
“This is a family store, DeeDee,” the redhead said with a laugh. “Let’s keep the focus on the chocolate displays, okay?”
Appearing completely at ease, Deirdre tugged the edges of her shirt together. “Chocolate and entertainment. Sage, your customers got a bonus today.”
Warmth rushed into Isaac’s belly, low and heavy, as Deirdre’s fingers trailed down the exposed skin of her chest. He was very glad she hadn’t hurt herself, that only the garment had been damaged. It would be a crime to mar such smooth skin… He imagined pressing his lips to that silky cleft…
“Excuse me,” Deirdre said wryly. She arranged her scarf to cover the opening in her top.
Isaac yanked his gaze up.
“Isaac.” Deirdre had a mischievous grin on her face. “Have you met Sage?”
“Um,” he said. Busted.
He shook hands with Sage Carrigan, the concerned redhead who owned the store, and the blonde, Cynthia Henley, Deirdre’s stepsister. The clerk sopping up the mess with paper towels was Dakota.
“Good to meet you both,” Dakota said.
“I’m glad everyone’s okay.” Sage looked at Mark, who was still blubbering softly. “How about a round of hot chocolate for the four of you, on the house?”
“You don’t have to do that,” Isaac began. Both Sage and Dakota sounded genuine, but if anything, he ought to be paying for the disruption.
“It’s okay,” Deirdre said. “Cynthia and I were finished anyway.”
“Chocolate?” Mark swiped the back of his hand across his face. “Is this the magic chocolate store?”
“After yesterday,” Isaac explained, “we had to come see for ourselves. We’ll get out of your way.”
Cynthia gave Isaac a speculative look. “Don’t be silly. We can spare a few minutes, DeeDee.”
“Good!” Sage said. “I love introducing people to Copper Mountain Chocolates. We make everything by hand here, and my hot chocolate is a special secret recipe.”
Sage led them to a new table as Dakota finished cleaning up the spill.
“Secret?” Mark was enthralled, his upset forgotten. “I like secrets. And I’m special, too.”
“Yes, you are, Mark,” Dakota added. “You guys are in for a treat. Here at Copper Mountain Chocolates, we like to say this is what love tastes like.” She waved her hand to encompass the steaming copper kettle and the display cases filled with chocolate delicacies.
What love tastes like?
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a flavor.” Isaac smiled. Mark’s mood had done a complete one-eighty, so who was he to argue?
Sage prepared the beverages and handed them around.
Isaac lifted his mug to his lips. Suddenly, the tagline seemed one-hundred-percent appropriate. The aroma was deep, a little smoky almost, drifting upward with the steam. The mound of whipped cream tickled his tongue, melting along with the sip of the rich, silky, not-too-sweet beverage. And the chocolate itself, well… It was, in a word, perfect.
His eyes met Deirdre’s across the table. She was watching him carefully, as if unaware of her own unguarded features. She hadn’t accepted any cocoa, claiming she’d already had hers, and Isaac guessed again that she didn’t often allow herself indulgences like this. What he saw in her face was yearning, unmet need, like a cold, hungry child pressing wistfully up against the window to a meal she couldn’t join.
“Sure I can’t get you one?” he offered.
She started, blinking, and then the expression disappeared. “No, thank you. I’m fine. Good, isn’t it?”
She looked away, her cheeks growing pink.
Was she yearning for the hot chocolate?
Or was she yearning for… something else?
Chapter Eight
DeeDee wasn’t sure where the sudden awkwardness with Isaac had come from. So, he’d seen her bra—big deal. She’d changed clothes in front of entire camera crews dozens of times with no one batting an eye.
Maybe that was it. She’d grown accustomed to invisibility. A strange irony, for a model, she supposed, but it made sense. The focus was on the clothing, not the body beneath. Was that why she’d grown dissatisfied with the job?
Was that what the photographers, buyers, and designers sensed in her? They needed that neutrality, that invisibility, to highlight their product. A model who distracted the eye did them no good.
Then again, as Jon had so clearly pointed out, she wasn’t the easiest person to work with.
Cynthia, recovered from her earlier nausea and now in full sales mode, was pimping the fashion show to Isaac, hoping to get his financial support. Given that the show was to raise funds for a community program that would directly benefit Mark, DeeDee figured Cynthia had it in the bag.
When Isaac reached into his pocket and pulled out his checkbook, DeeDee exchanged a grin with her stepsister. Cynthia was amazing. Isaac looked pleased with himself, as well. It was no doubt a position he was very comfortable with—being a benefactor, the man with the money and the solutions. The guy people counted on for help.
“Isaac,” DeeDee said, pointing to his lip, “you’ve got some cream.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Is that right?” Then, without taking his eyes off hers, he ran his tongue over his mouth. “Better?”
Oh, Lordy.
His lips were full, firm but soft looking. That delicious scruff on his face no doubt had just the right amount of raspiness… She’d meant to derail his macho manliness a tad. Instead, she’d unleashed his full sexiness.
This wasn’t good.
“Yes,” she croaked. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was like sandpaper.
He pushed his mug of cocoa across the table. “Have a sip. It’ll help.”
DeeDee cleared her throat and shoved the mug back. “I’m good.” She scratched the side of her nose. “It’s very generous of you to help support the fundraiser. Thank you.”
A slow smile blossomed over his rugged face. “You’re welcome. We’ve taken up enough of your time, though. Mark, we’ve got to go home and feed your fish.”
Mark, who’d been deeply involved in getting every last drop of hot chocolate from his mug, lifted his sticky face and thought for a moment. “My fishies are hungry?”
“Yup.”
“Okay.” Mark got up. “Bye, DeeDee. Bye, Cinta. Bye, Sage. Bye, Kadoka. I have to feed my fishies.�
�
When the bell on the door tinkled behind them, DeeDee slumped against her chair.
“Well, that was interesting.” Cynthia crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, raising a speculative eyebrow. “Wanna tell me how long that’s been going on?”
“What?” DeeDee protested. “Nothing’s going on. I work for him. I look after his brother. You’re delusional.”
From behind the counter, Dakota piped up. “I felt the heat from here. There’s definitely something going on.”
DeeDee put her head in her hands. “No, no, no. There isn’t. There can’t be. I work for him. He’s rich, serious, and totally settled here. I’m broke, rudderless, and only in Marietta because I have nowhere else to go.”
Silence. She looked up. “Wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
Cynthia bit her lip and glanced over at Dakota and, darn it, Sage, who stood at the entrance to the workroom where she made her chocolates.
They’d all clearly heard the disparaging remark. People who lived in Marietta loved Marietta, and DeeDee knew better than to speak ill of it. She hadn’t meant to—it had just slipped out. But it was a big reason not to get involved with someone who lived here.
“We wondered,” Sage said. “I’m so sorry things haven’t gone well for you.”
To DeeDee’s surprise, Sage’s tone was filled with so much kindness that it brought heat to the back of her throat.
Oh, God. Again, she put her hand to her mouth. She was such an idiot. Yes, she, who had no social collateral to waste, had just dissed her hometown to three very loyal residents.
But even worse, she’d accidentally admitted that she, the big New York City model, was a fake, a fraud.
A complete failure.
“Ha-ha.” It was a pathetic attempt. Her stomach twisted. “Cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it? Can’t wait until Carol Bingley gets hold of this tidbit. Everyone will have a good laugh at Deirdre Cash, who thought she was too big for little old Marietta.” She got to her feet, clutching her bag. “I need to go. Thanks for… thanks.”
Sage gripped her forearm. “Sit down, you giant baby.” But there was fondness in her tone. “So, it’s your turn to churn the gossip mill for a bit. You’ll survive. I’ve been there. So has Cynthia.”
“We all have,” Dakota added. “No one’s judging you. Well, not everyone’s judging you.” She smiled.
“Not helping.” DeeDee flopped her head into her hands. Then she looked up. “You’ve all got stories?”
Sage made a face. “Dawson’s jealous ex came after me with a gun. When I was in bed with him.”
It was a legendary story that couldn’t have been easy to live down.
“Remember my Famous Interview?” Cynthia cocked an eyebrow at her.
Cynthia always referred to it in a voice that made it sound like it was in capital letters. Her Famous Interview about the business climate in Marietta. Except she hadn’t said climate. She’d said climax.
The interview had gone viral.
DeeDee had laughed as hard as anyone at that. Poor shy, stuttering Cynthia.
“And don’t forget Leah Morgan,” Sage added.
Lonely Leah, as she’d been dubbed by the reality TV show that had nearly ruined her, had referred to Marietta as a backwater town in the middle of nowhere. While drunk.
On national television.
“I guess if the town can forgive that, there’s hope for me,” DeeDee said.
“Turns out there was a lot more to the story,” Sage said. “We’ve all had stuff happen. Sure, sometimes we laugh at each other, but we always support each other in the long run.”
That sounded good. Really, really good. But it didn’t apply to her. DeeDee hadn’t ever really been there for anyone, long run or short. She knew what she deserved. It was time to shut up and take it.
And one way or another, she was going to save Cynthia’s show.
*
Isaac couldn’t get that bare half-smile of creamy flesh, like a lacy wink, out of his mind. Deirdre had stared at him as if she could read his mind and hear the blood rushing through his veins, daring him to look away while she casually covered herself.
The woman seemed impervious to embarrassment.
It had been a long time since Isaac had been stirred like this by a woman’s body. And never under these circumstances. That he’d glimpsed her breasts and silky lingerie in a public place, surrounded by strangers, added an element of the forbidden to the encounter.
The fact that she worked for him only made it worse.
Isaac had had every intention of pretending it hadn’t happened, of putting it out of his mind, but the very next morning, while she waited to pick Mark up for a routine appointment, she’d leaned against the doorframe, stretched like a cat, gave him a heavy-lidded smile, and then winked.
Isaac had lost his train of thought, lost his voice, hell, lost his mind.
He’d gotten almost nothing done after that. Before he knew it, the front door crashed open, and Mark’s lumbering footsteps sounded, followed by Deirdre’s lighter tread.
Might as well say hi.
Isaac met them upstairs. “Did you have a good checkup?” Finding a doctor Mark liked had been a huge relief.
“I’m hungry, DeeDee,” Mark said, ignoring him. “Will you have cookies with me? And play checkers?”
From his mouth, it sounded like chiggers.
“It’s up to your brother, Markie.” Deirdre punched Mark lightly in the shoulder. “His wish is my command. And jackets live in closets, not on floors.”
Mark blinked and shoved his glasses up his nose. “What?”
“Pick up your jacket.” Isaac heard the snap in his voice and took a beat. Of course Mark was focused more on Deirdre. It was what Isaac wanted. “Help Deirdre clean for thirty minutes, then you can have one cookie.”
Mark’s forehead puckered as his lip began to quiver. “But, Isaac—”
Isaac wanted to kick himself.
“Or,” Deirdre said, shooting Isaac a meaningful glance, “we’ll have a healthy snack and then go for a walk so I can tell you about the doctor’s visit.”
“Yay!” Mark yelled. Then, “I don’t wanna walk.”
Isaac had been thinking about Deirdre for hours, but now that she was here, he was annoyed. With her, with Mark.
With himself.
“I wanna have cookies. And watch TV.” Mark stuck his lower lip out and crossed his arms.
“Deirdre is getting you a snack.” He didn’t have time for one of Mark’s meltdowns today. Since Deirdre was such a hero in Mark’s eyes, she could deal with the fallout. “I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll hear the doctor’s report after that.”
“Aye, aye, Mr. Litton, sir.” Deirdre touched two fingers to her temple in salute.
“Aye, aye,” Mark echoed, grabbing her arm. “Come on, DeeDee.”
“Where do jackets live?” Deirdre asked, pointing to Mark’s huge varsity-style bomber.
This time, Mark laughed, catching on. “In closets. Not on floors. It’s a joke, right?”
“Yup. You know what to do.”
Mark picked up his things without grumbling.
Isaac listened to Mark and Deirdre’s cheerful chatter, a departure from the usual canned laugh-track of television sitcoms he’d become accustomed to hearing at this time of day. And hated.
“No sweets,” Isaac called as he descended to his office. The door closed upstairs without a response.
He looked at his touch screen but didn’t make a move to initiate the call.
Contrary to any reasonable expectations, Deirdre was turning out to be more of a companion to his brother than anyone he’d hired in the past. She didn’t treat Mark like an idiot, a patient, or a problem. She treated Mark like… a person.
She was exactly what he wanted for Mark.
And triggered an attraction that he wanted to avoid, for himself.
Oh well. He hit the button to connect with his client. There we
re worse things.
Thirty minutes later, just as he completed his call, Deirdre and Mark clomped down the stairs to Isaac’s office. She carried a plate of apple slices, cheddar cheese, and crackers to the table by the window.
“Figured you could use a snack, too.” She arched an eyebrow at him.
She’d changed into a jogging suit that emphasized her perfect curves. He pretended not to notice.
“DeeDee says low blood sugar makes you crabby,” Mark said. “We have to eat fruit and veg’tables. And cheese is okay sometimes too, but not too much. ’Cuz of the fat and cless-trol. Right, DeeDee?”
“That’s right, Markie-Mark. Go get your running shoes on while I tell Isaac what they said at the clinic.”
*
“Good news, I hope?” He’d enrolled Mark in a heart-smart program as soon as they’d moved, but he’d been inconsistent in implementing the advice.
“Excellent news,” Deirdre said. “He’s doing great. He’s lost four pounds, his blood pressure is down a point or two, and perhaps you’re not aware, but he runs up those stairs like a gazelle.”
“A herd of gazelles, maybe.” He smiled.
Deirdre buffed her nails on her sleeve. “Thank you, DeeDee. You’ve done a fantastic job, DeeDee. How can I express my appreciation, DeeDee? A raise? Of course! A car? Why not?”
The tension at the back of his scalp eased. She was fun to have around. Good for Mark, good company, easy on the eyes. As long as they kept it at that, things would be fine.
“He seems happy,” he said.
“He’s got a gift for happiness,” she responded. “He’s lucky that way.”
“Not a lot of people would call my brother lucky.”
She shrugged. “A lot of people call me lucky. Goes to show what they know.”
He cocked his head. “And aren’t you? I thought being a model was every little girl’s dream.”
She blinked, then pushed away from the wall. Her expression had closed. He wasn’t sure what that meant. She wasn’t a happy person or she hadn’t enjoyed modeling?
The Chocolate Comeback (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 7) Page 8
